These Masks We Wear
by IWantYouInMyLife
Summary: Hermione had her entire life all figured out, but when a Ministry letter arrives on a November evening, destroying all her carefully constructed plans for the future, she'll be thrown in the middle of a hurricane. Stakes are higher than ever, and the players are all playing to win. The question is: Whose mask will fall first?
1. No Ordinary Day

**Author's Note: Okay, so here's the deal. I know I have other stories ongoing, but this plot just would not leave me alone no matter how hard I tried to ignore it. I won't abandon any of my previous works, but perhaps I'll write this one too.**

 **The idea for this story came from Kittenshift17's lovely piece** _"Limerence Laws."_ **It's still in the process of being written, but I fell in love with it nevertheless. If you haven't checked it out yet, do it now! The major pieces of this story are different, but that's where the inspiration came from.**

 **Anyway, tell me if that would be something you'd be interested in reading, okay?**

 **Disclaimer: I own nothing, alright? I'm just playing here.**

* * *

Hermione knew, from the moment she woke up late to her first class in the morning, that the day would not be great. She felt as she jumped out of bed in a rush, that maybe she ought to just return to her still warm spot and pretend her obligations didn't exist. But, knowing that was impossible for _her_ , she quickly got dressed and ran down the stairs.

When later Dumbledor called for an urgent Order meeting, Hermione again felt the sinking feeling that no good would come from that god-forsaken November monday. Regardless, against her instincts, she dutifully stepped into the Floo and whisked away to Grimmauld Place — already preparing her mental shields.

No one was there before them, which suited Hermione just fine. The quieter, the better as far as she was concerned. So, in order to make the most of her limited peaceful time, she chose a comfortable seat and enlarged one of the books she always kept in her inner pocket for situations such as that one.

She ignored Dumbledor's soft voice, telling Harry he would have to study Occlumency once again — this time with him. She ignored Ronald's loud noises in the kitchen, while he grabbed something to eat. She ignored the Gaelic song Minerva murmured under her breath. She ignored it all — or at least pretended to do so — until an owl landed in front of her carrying an envelope with the Ministry seal.

"What do you have here?" She wondered, petting the gray owl behind the ears while retrieving the letter.

She opened the letter and read its content, a sinking feeling in her stomach the further she read. When Hermione finally reached the bottom of the page, where two names were written in bold, her hands were already shaking with suppressed anger.

How dare them? This was preposterous; a true absurd if she ever saw one. All those years in the Wizarding World, she grinded her teeth and tried to ignore the prejudices, the older-than-old laws, the favoritism, but this... it changed everything.

Hermione felt the time pass, but could not force her body to move from her frozen position. She knew the house was starting to fill with the Order member's, and soon she would be caught, open-mouthed and sizzling magic, by someone, so she recomposed her expression the best she could given the circumstances.

That was when she noticed the man walking down the stairs. Harry's godfather wasn't someone who could enter a space quietly — everything about him screamed for attention. Hermione felt her breathing become somewhat shallower as her blood began pumping fast one again inside her body. Fuck, she had to contain her temper — it would not do to curse him in front of everybody.

Sirius whole appearance was somewhat wild. From his dark pants — so tight on his strong legs — to his button-up shirt — half undone and flashing a tantalizing piece of his chest — to his black leather jacket — which he left unzipped — everything about him screamed sexy-appeal. It wasn't the unassuming attractiveness that Harry wore so well those days, no. Sirius Black was an incredibly handsome man, and he was all too aware of it.

He didn't walk into the room, he strolled — slow and surely —, a smirk firmly settled into place. Hermione hated it. Hated how his freshly shaven face seemed so smooth and soft; hated his smug expression of victory; hated his damn fragrance, that smelled as if it were made just for him; hated, most of all, how he wore it all to his advantage shamelessly — flirting with man and women alike.

One would think his imprisonment would've altered his ways, but one would be wrong. Apparently, fifteen years of Azkaban did nothing to diminish his infatuated ego. It seemed like the Black uprising had an everlasting effect that couldn't be ignored even by those who claimed to hate the house and everything it stood for.

How could she ever love this man? It wasn't fair that she was asked to give her body and her mind to someone so unlike herself or so unlike all that she envisioned her other half would be. But, she had to remind herself, Sirius wasn't her other half — of course not. It wasn't enough for her to marry one completely inappropriate individual, she had to marry two.

Remus Lupin, the enabler of his best friend's act. Hermione disliked him no less than she did Sirius, despite his less aggravating personality. She knew that, behind his carefully constructed mask, laid the brains of the Marauders. While James and Sirius had happily posed as the head of their groups, basking in the attention their stupid pranks and holier-than-thou attitude granted them, Remus hid in the back, nose pressed in countless books, quietly laughing while providing material, spells, and potions for their private use.

No, Hermione wasn't fooled by either of them. She understood their personalities, as well as the persona they played while at the meetings — almost as well constructed as Snape's. They both pretended to be responsible adults, concerned by the sad news of the day — whether it was a single Muggle-born witch or an entire village of muggles —, and fooled everybody into thinking they grew out of their petty, aggressive, and vengeful adolescent mindset.

She crumpled the paper in her hands, refusing to read the message one more time. It would be pointless anyway, by now she had the whole thing memorized — the words burnt deep in her mind. She was to marry within' the month and was _encouraged_ to try, as soon as possible, to mother a child from at least one of her husbands to be.

What a fricking joke, Hermione thought darkly. She was eighteen, still in school and in the middle of a massive war, when was she to find time for a baby? She wasn't sure a child was even on her long hauls plans...

She inhaled, letting the oxygen seep into every pore of her body. This wasn't the time to consider her life expectations, Hermione had to figure out a way to get through this farce of a wedding without killing one of her husbands or offing herself along the way. Her mind was running a mile an hour, rushing to find a solution she knew wasn't there. None of her precious books told her how to get through an imposed marriage proposed by the government; she'd have to find a way on her own.

"You alright there, honey?" Sirius asked, his voice smooth and deep — another perfect feature in his already flawless record, another thing she hated.

"I'm fine," Hermione said curtly, not even bothering to glance his way. Soon enough she would have to endure his chauvinist behavior for extended periods of time, might as well enjoy the moments of peace she had left.

Unfortunately, he didn't get the memo, and instead of moving away like she hoped he would, the youngest black moved forward, allowing his body to drop on the couch behind him with the same carefully constructed laziness with which he always paraded.

"Bad news?" He asked, looking pointedly at the crumpled piece of paper in her still clenched hand.

 _Yes_ , she wanted to say, _the worst kind of bad news actually._ But she didn't because, like all of them, she too was playing a part. The good student who respected authority and rules above all else.

"No, just useless." Her voice had a slight tremble to it, but he probably wouldn't care to notice.

He said nothing but regarded her with a look that told her she convinced no one with her poor excuse for a lie. She cursed in her own mind, wishing she had done a better job to hide her rage.

"If you'll excuse me," She said, getting up without waiting for his reply and moving to the stairs.

Hermione needed a plan, fast. Soon enough the news would reach Dumbledor, and there would be no hiding her pairs. If luck was on her side, she had thirty minutes before the hurricane arrived.

Thankfully, she only needed ten.

* * *

She walked into the room, her mental shields in place and her expression as neutral as possible. Hermione wouldn't screw this up. She had a plan and she'd stick to it, despite the fear coiled in the pit of her stomach.

People were screaming at each other, each trying to outspeak the other in a disorganized manner. To put it simply, it was nothing more than what she imagined it would be.

Letters were being passed from hand to hand; everyone seemed somehow displeased by the names on the paper — though Hermione could understand the feeling all too well. It was hard to draw any amount of satisfaction from a union which was crafted by the Ministry in an attempt to raise the birth rate.

She tried to be as silent as she could, hoping to gain a few more seconds to herself, which she planned to use to gather as much information as she could. It wasn't overly complicated, seeing as they all were involved in a heated discussion.

Severus was spitting out words at the headmaster, his usual neutral expression completely replaced by a deep disdain, which appeared to be etched in his every pore. Dumbledore, on the other hand, also lacked his signature twinkle in his eyes. He seemed to be trying to calm his spy down, something Hermione knew from experience was almost impossible to do.

The Weasleys, like customary, were all squeezed together in a tight circle, passing letters to each other and screaming nonsense rapidly while crying and blushing from the anger. Ginny was hugging Charlie and sobbing much more intensely than the others, which suggested that the surname Potter was not, indeed, in her immediate future. _Good,_ Hermione thought, at least some good came from that mess.

Hermione knew that a marriage between Harry and the redheaded had been on the Headmaster's plan for some time now, despite how subtle he thought himself to be, and she tried to interfere as much as she could, but this was indefinitely more efficient. The last thing Harry deserved was to be tied to a delusional little girl who thought she was entitled to much more than she actually was.

Ronald was quietly regarding his letter, looking more like the best friend she knew and less like the explosive kid Molly thought she had. It was a slip — a moment of surprise that led to a glimpse of his true reaction, instead of the one they both knew he should be displaying.

Hermione wasn't overly concerned, though. Ronald was only one of the many Weasleys congregated in the center of the room, and would most likely go unnoticed among the loud mess his family was creating. For a moment, Hermione allowed herself to imagine who had been picked for him. From the look on his face, he wasn't displeased with his matches, only surprised. Not much surprised Ronald these days, so it spiked her curiosity as to who it may be.

Tonks was grinning hungrily at Kingsley, not even attempting to hide her satisfaction at the opportunity to have the auror to herself. While she always spoke candidly about her misplaced affections, Shacklebolt never acknowledged or even pretended to be aware of her in any form.

Moody was talking to Mundungus Fletcher, Minerva, and Dedalus Diggle in a corner...

And finally, leaning against the table, was the one she had been searching for: Harry Potter. Like always, Harry was her priority, and knowing who he was to be paired with played a major role in her future decisions. He was too important to risk — in her mind, more important than any other. If she thought, even for a moment, that he was in any sort of danger from his selected spouses, then she would grab Ronald and they'd disappear.

Harry didn't look angry, though, which was enough of a surprise in its own, but he also appeared to be in deep thought while he pretended to listen to whatever Black was spouting at the moment.

Sirius and Remus stood together, talking among themselves about something Hermione would rather not know about. Their opinion of her person was irrelevant, and she was trying hard not to think about the fact that she was supposed to be married to these men in under a month — and have their babies.

Hermione desperately wanted to know the names in Harry's letter, which was almost reason enough for her to step forward and come close enough to ask him directly. However, that would involve having contact with both previously said men, who Hermione was avoiding right now.

So, instead, she allowed her body to turn to the left, where Severus was still arguing with the Headmaster. That was exactly who she wished to speak with before any other move could be decided. So, with that thought in mind, she walked in their direction, coming closer and closer, until she was invading all of his personal space.

"Who?" She demanded, knowing she needn't say anything else for him to understand what she meant.

She heard a low sharp intake of air coming from the Headmaster. It was obvious that Hermione had surprised him with her boldness. Not only was Severus her professor, but he was also the feared dungeon bat who struck fear in the heart of every breathing being at Hogwarts. Not many dared to demand something from the man, and even fewer were the ones who managed to extract an answer.

"Your Mister Potter and Fleur Delacour," He responded, slowly punctuating each word as they came out of his mouth in an exemplary show of distaste. In sharp contrast with his acid words, though, his eyes softened a little, showing he understood just how much it meant to her that Harry had been paired with someone she could trust.

A large portion of the weight she had felt on her shoulders immediately lifted, just as soon as the words were processed in her brain. Harry wouldn't be pleased, but with his displeasure she could deal with, just as she had many times over the years. Harry would be safe, that was what truly mattered.

"And you?" Severus asked in return, grabbing her arm with some urgency and not seeming concerned by the fact that they both were rudely ignoring the presence of Albus Dumbledore. Hermione had his full attention.

"Sirius Black and Remus Lupin," Hermione promptly supplied, watching the corner of his eyes pinching in anger. She was not disturbed by his grip on her body or his tone of voice, too used to it by now to mistake it for something other than the concern it was.

Her match was far from ideal, she was well aware, but no one — not one single soul — would find it more ridiculous and frustrating than Severus. Not only because of his legendary hatred for the Marauders, although it weighed heavily on his mind still, but because he knew her. He saw her — the real her — which at the moment only served to anger him further.

Hermione was tempted to lower her mind shields just enough for him to enter her mind and express his honest thoughts on her match — knowing he would never do it out loud as long as they were surrounded by others. His eyes were still shielded, however, which meant that was not the time to expose their speculations.

"Miss Granger," The Headmaster interrupted their silent exchange, apparently tired of being ignored. "Is this information accurate? Have you been paired with Sirius and Remus?"

"Indeed," Hermione turned to face him, feeling a sinking feeling at her own confirmation of her fate. "A most appropriate match, don't you think?"

The sarcastic jab escaped her mouth before she could stop it, and Hermione instantly regretted her carelessness. Her position was way precarious as it was, with her walking a fine line each day she lived a double life. There was no need for her to lose grip on her role.

The ice blue eyes perusing her were clouded with disapproval and irritation, although it was impossible to tell if Dumbledore resented more the current situation or the impertinent response she just threw at him.

"The Ministry has stepped too far with this law," Severus said, preventing whatever the Headmaster had been about to utter to be heard, in a move that both pleased and frustrated Hermione. Seeing the old man lose his cool was a rare opportunity, and she enjoyed the chance to take profound pleasure in each one of them. "Even Scrimgeour, the idiot, must know the uproar this will cause in our society. They haven't the manpower to prevent a mass flight of terrified citizens."

"The obviousness of the flaw only serves to worry me, Severus," Dumbledore said. "We must assume Tom is behind this and that he has bigger plans than the primary stated goal. That you hadn't heard of any of this...Is indeed a worrisome thought, for it either means his trust in your services is wavering or, in a case worse scenario, he finally decided to come out of the shadow."

With that dramatic sentence, he turned and began to walk towards the kitchen, probably to hear from the rest of the Order. The meeting would not be without trouble, Hermione would bet anything on it.

It wasn't long before people started to converge to the kitchen as well, following the Headmaster. Owls were flying in at an increasing speed — probably from various undercover Order members who also received their matches. Most of the letters landed in front of Albus, but he didn't bother himself with any of it, but rather allowed them to pile on top of each other.

In the middle of the crowd, Hermione spotted Ronald again, and, as luck would have it, he was pointedly looking at her with an expression she knew all too well. Curiosity must be killing him because he would never ask her for _that_ in a room full of people otherwise — but Hermione readily complied, regardless, lowering her mind shields to allow him inside her head.

 _"I assume you got no Death Eaters?"_ His voice rang clear inside her.

 _"No, no such luck,"_ She mocked, letting the names — their names — pop into the front of her thoughts.

 _"Could be worse,"_ Ron debated. As always, the practical one. He then supplied his own names without needing to be asked. _"Blaise Zabini and Luna."_

 _"Slytherin, hun?"_ She mused. _"Interesting. Luna is a powerful ally, I'm glad you were matched."_

Suddenly he severed the connection, leaving her mind and turning to answer a question his mother had just directed his way. Hermione blinked, trying to mask the discomfort of the abrupt withdrawal. It still amazed her sometimes how good Ron had become at Legilimency - better than Harry; better than her.

Hermione's mind was much more suited for the subtle art of organizing and protecting. Occlumency was where she excelled. All she had in prowess to fight off invaders, Ronald had to be the invader.

* * *

They were all screaming at the Headmaster — eager for him to pull a fast solution out of his sleeves, as they seemed to think he always did. The complaints, however, were all about the marriages to come. Nobody spoke of the pregnancies. Surely a bunch of pregnant women and babies would be a concern in the middle of a freaking war?

"Will we not speak of the pregnancies?" Hermione questioned when she could not hold back any longer, as always surprised by the line of thought of the wizarding folk. "How will a bunch of pregnant girls fight this war?"

"I concur," Severus spoke, crossing his arms in front of his body. "The last thing we need is more hormonal, irrational students."

"Can't you brew something?" Harry asked, surprisingly lacking his usual aggressiveness. Even Hermione was surprised — Harry's part included a heavy hatred for Severus. It seemed like they were all off their games that night.

"Certainly," Severus agreed, also lacking his usual sneer. "But it may not be advisable."

"Problems with your master, traitor?" Mad-eye mocked, drinking from his flask.

"Indeed," He replied. His unaffected drawl almost forcing a smile on Hermione's face. "If the Dark Lord reveals himself to be the creator of this law, then brewing a modified conceptional potion might not be within my possibilities."

"We can't allow dozens of students to be forced into early motherhood," Hermione protested, all amusement leaving her. "We're talking about sixteen-years-old girls who could potentially still be virgins and with no idea on how to raise a child! Muggleborns who will have to bear half-blood children who, in turn, will never be accepted by their pure-blood families — forced to be an outcast, with no family to speak of."

"I'm afraid there's not much we can do for these girls, Miss Granger, Severus position is simply too important to risk," Dumbledore said, his voice grave as he sentenced the lives of hundreds of girls.

Hermione was livid, furious. Most members of the order looked slightly sickened by the idea, but none would question the Headmaster's choice. They were ready to allow the teenagers to be forced into this. She felt ready to explode, but suddenly there was a hand gripping her leg under the table. Severus gave no outer sign that he was aware of her inner battle, but the hand in her thigh was strong as it gripped her. It was a much-needed anchor. Hermione couldn't afford to question the Headmaster any further without drawing too much attention to herself, she would just have to wait and talk to the man beside her later.

"What good is he as a spy if he can't even bring information?" Moody began once more. "If we had known of this before the law came out, we could have done more."

"Like what?" Tonks asked, a little on the rude side.

"Anything!" The matriarch of the Weasley family spoke out, apparently having run out of what little patience she had been holding on to, so far. "Anything would have been better than seeing my children being married off to two random people, selected by this ridiculous law. My girl is to be married to a death eater; my Ginny —" A sob overcame her, halting her sentence midway.

Said girl, sitting right next to her mother, looked as white as paper and on the verge of tears from her mother's words.

"Yes," The Headmaster agreed, not looking disturbed by the news — or, at least, as disturbed as Hermione thought one should be in face of such news. "Perhaps it would be better if we all revealed the matches, so we know what we're dealing with."

He looked at Fred and George — who sat directly to his left — clearly expecting them to begin. Hermione noticed Amelia shifting in her seat, which was explained when Fred turned to her and said:

"Our lovely Amelia and Graham Montague," He declared, not bothered by his future spouses, even though Amelia was almost old enough to be his mother.

"What do we know about Montague?" Amelia asked, not even bothering to comment on her own match to two much younger men. If anything, she had always been a very practical woman.

"Slytherin, the same year as the twins. Quidditch team captain. Average grades, but a very skilled duelist. Pureblood and son of a Death Eater," Flitwick said. "Rogers Montague is a known supported of he-who-must-not-be-named. However, he has never been reported by an order member to be present at a raid, and his son is continuing his studies under the tutelage of a professional duelist."

"So, bad but not awful," Remus declared, too eager to grasp at a silver lining that was just not there. Graham was most likely training with a fellow Death Eater to become a Death Eater. The fact that neither he nor his father had been seen or recognized by an order member meant next to nothing, as Remus was well aware.

The M.O of the Dark Lord's servants was to cause as much destruction as possible in as little time as they could, engaging with the Order members only when necessary and, instead, fleeing the scene most of the times. It was a message; a show of power and strength. They were a step ahead, always. The ones controlling the game board, as Ronald often described.

"My son is to be married to a Montague, I think that's bad enough, Remus," Arthur finally chimes in, showing only a reasonable amount of indignation at the situation. Passive, that's how Hermione saw Arther Weasley. For a father of seven — all who fell under the rules of that law — he seemed no more disturbed than he had been when she explained the necessity of electricity for a microwave to function.

As another person began to talk, Hermione looked at the clock hanging on the wall. It was late, she realized, later than she would've liked, and there was still much to be discussed. She could feel the stress settling on her shoulders as she prepared herself for another sleepless night. After the official meeting ended, Hermione knew her boys would want to have their own private talk, which would also, undoubtedly, not end without a heated fight first. After all, there was much to be decided, and nowhere near enough time to do it properly.

* * *

 **AN2: Gotta say, guys, I'm excited about this one.**


	2. End Game

**Author's Note: I decided to carry on with this story despite the fact that I have other stories going on at the moment. This idea won't go away. I hope you guys like it.**

 **Please review it and let me know what you think of this chapter, 'cause I'm so excited for it.** _*grins*_

 **Disclaimer: I own nothing of the Harry Potter franchise, I'm only trying to play here. Please don't sue me.**

* * *

Ron jumped on his bed, burying his head in the pillow and groaning tiredly.

"This was brutal," He mumbled, turning his head to the side and facing both Harry and Hermione as they sat on the other bed.

She couldn't help but agree with his assessment — the meeting had been brutal. The pairings were mostly horrible and some — like Ginevra's — were downright dangerous. It seemed like the names were drawn randomly from a box, with no regards whatsoever for the relationships to be formed in the process.

"You are not the one who has to marry a Death Eater, so don't even start with me," Harry pointed out, leaning on the headboard of the bed before opening his legs for Hermione to settle in between them and rest against his chest.

She pinched his leg, before reproaching: "Don't act like Severus is just another Death Eater."

"Shut up, Harry." Ronald rolled his eyes. "I have to find out if Zabini might try to shove his dick in my arse."

"Oh, please," Harry responded, rubbing the spot Hermione had just pinched but knowing better than to complain. "Don't act like there's a line of people anxiously waiting to shove their dick up your disgusting arse, mate. Zabini is probably used to rich, clean arses."

"Fuck off, you fucker," Ron grumbled. "My arse is fucking clean; you want to check it out?"

"Quit inviting people to check out your ass, Ronald," Hermione mocked, smirking at his glower. "Honestly, is like you want people to get closer to it."

Harry hid his face in her hair to laugh. However, he was howling so loud it served for nothing other than ensuring she would be partially deaf from her right ear for the rest of night.

"You are a horrible friend," The redhead stated, burying his head once again in his pillow.

Before she could respond, there was a knock on the door. She felt Harry instantly freeze behind her, laughter dying on his lips. Hermione knew who it was, though; there was no reason for him to panic yet.

She wandless lifted the wards around the room to allow the potion master to enter. Putting them back immediately after he entered and closed the door. It wouldn't do for someone to hear the conversation they were about to have.

"Miss. Granger, are you aware that that's my husband you're currently rubbing yourself against?" He asked, raising an eyebrow at the scene before him.

"Not your husband yet," She corrected, smugly. "Until you both exchange vows he is mine to do as I please."

Harry, who had relaxed as soon as he saw who entered the room, protested: "I am right here, you know?"

"You are? No one had noticed," Ron mocked, throwing a sassy look towards his best friend.

Severus moved to stand in front of the door, crossing his arms in front of his body.

"Well, who would have thought the princess of Gryffindor was such a depraved young woman? What will your Head of House think?" He mocked, smirking in a very familiar way. She had, after all, learned from him.

"Perhaps she'll be willing to forgive my transgressions if I explain the one who taught me how to behave," Hermione said, enjoying having the chance to speak with him away from the rest of the Order.

"Miss. Granger, you will not, under any circumstances, blame me for your absurd behavior, do you hear me?" He sneered. "The stupid-heads you call friends are entirely responsible for your pedestrian actions."

"Pedestrian? I'll have you know that I'm practically royalty," Harry said, brushing his bangs out of his forehead. "See? Boy-who-is-destined-to-defeat-the-most-annoying-man-to-ever-grace-the-earth."

"Man, you have to stop trying to come up with these names," Ron complained, shaking his head in disapproval. "You're embarrassing us here, mate."

"What? I just rocked this one," The boy-who-lived protested.

"Harry, honey, just don't," Hermione said, rubbing his leg. "Please."

He grumbled in protest, turning to face Severus. "My future husband surely agrees with my assessment, don't you, peaches?"

Hermione choked with laughter the second she heard the pet name cross Harry's lips, trying to resist the urge to howl when Severus's entire face morphed into a mask of disapproval and derision. Ron, on the other hand, didn't even try to disguise his roar.

"You will never repeat that ridiculous nickname when referring to me, Mister Potter, or I swear I'll torture and kill you myself, with my bare hands, before delivering your cold body to the Dark Lord," Severus demanded, his voice quiet and deadly. "Have I made myself clear?"

"Why, dear, do lighten up," Harry dismissed his treat easily, hugging Hermione's waist to pull her closer, effectively using her body as a shield. "You'll get wrinkles before fifty if you carry on this way."

When Hermione saw the man reaching for his wand, she couldn't stop the yell that escaped her lips, even as she kept on laughing.

"Wait, Severus, don't!" She pleaded, trying to dislodge her body from its position in between Harry's leg, but he wouldn't release his hold on her waist no matter how much she struggled.

"Don't even think about it," Harry whispered, tightening his grip and pressing her in front of his body.

"Ron, help," She begged, trying to stop the laughter but unable to hold the sound in.

"In no way am I getting in the middle of this," He proclaimed, not lifting a finger to help her.

"You're a useless friend," She pointed out, giving up on her struggle and sitting back down in front of Harry.

"Surely not Weasley?" Severus mocked, not one to waste the opportunity of badmouthing someone when the situation presented itself.

"You're a sour little man," The redhead mumbled from his bed, pursing his lips.

"Wait, how come Fleur is even involved in this? She's French," Harry suddenly asked, changing the subject.

"Not anymore, she is not," Ronald said, shaking his head.

"Yes, Miss. Delacour intended to marry Willian soon," Severus informed, finally leaning against the wall and assuming a more relaxed stance. "Since Willian is the oldest Weasley, he's the one who will assume the title and the responsibility of carrying his name forward when his parents are no longer able to do so, therefore he cannot, legally, marry a witch who is not a citizen of Britain. It's an ancient law that no one thought to revisit to these days, so it's still effective. To marry Willian she had to give up her rights as a French citizen."

"Bet she's not happy about that right now," Hermione unhelpfully pointed out, resting her head on Harry's chest.

Severus conceded her point with a nod of the head. "Yes, I suppose Miss. Delacour is deeply regretting her decision."

Harry groaned, rubbing his forehead. "It's just my luck... having to marry a witch who will forever resent me."

"Whining so soon, Potter?" Severus sneered.

"Of course not," He scorned back. "This is exactly what I pictured when I envisioned my married life. An annoying git and a resentful veela."

Hermione signed under her breath — she could understand Harry's frustration. Even if they won the war and managed to change the law, it would all be for the next generations. The magical vows they would all exchange in the next thirty days were irrevocable; they would be bonded for life to these people. Any chance they once had at a normal, loving marriage just slipped past their grasp, leaving only a deep sadness and growing resentment behind.

It wasn't like she ever thought of herself as a romantic person. However, Hermione had had plans for her future, should the war ever end. She wanted to make a name for herself, to travel around the world, to enjoy life like she deserved after this gruesome war. All her plans were for naught. Without the use of contraceptives, it was likely she would be pregnant sooner rather than later.

"You knew nothing of this?" Hermione asked, knowing the answer but unable to keep herself from wondering.

"No," The potion master confirmed, shaking his head lightly. "The Dark Lord has been planning something for quite some while, but I had no idea what it was. Albus was under the impression that it would be another plot to capture and kill precious Potter, but it was all speculation on his part. However, we have to deal with what this means, beyond this marriage law."

"What do you mean by that?"

"There wasn't even a vote, Hermione," Ron answered, sounding more tired all of the sudden. "There wasn't a plan to have the wizengamot believe the wizarding world needed the babies and the mixed marriages. There were no rumors, no discussion. The law was approved by the Minister, who overruled the wizengamot and Albus, as the Chief Warlock."

"So we have to assume the Ministry had fallen under the rule of Voldemort," Harry resumed.

Severus hissed, grabbing his arm. "Do not use that name around me."

"Sorry," He apologized, actually looking repentant for once.

"And the reason they gave was so ridiculous too," Hermione carried on. "There's no research to prove that two wizards are more effective at impregnating a witch than just one. I don't understand, honestly. If the Dark Lord chose the pairings, then why would I get Black and Lupin? I can't believe he would miss the opportunity to have me in his grasps."

"I believe he thought getting hurt by a loved one would be the worst punishment for a muggle-born," The potion master said angrily, fisting his hands and frowning darkly at the thought.

"What do you mean, Remus would never hurt Hermione," Harry defended, instantly sounding defensive.

"Harry-" Ron tried to calm their friend down, but Severus was having none of it.

"You know nothing of Lupin and the beast that lives inside of him, Potter. Stop playing the delusional child and look at what's in front of you for once. Just because you believe Lupin to be above reproach doesn't change the fact that he depends on a potion to refrain from killing people once a month." He spat the words out, allowing his hatred for Remus to saturate the air. "Without it, he will have to be locked up and chained every month."

"Why would he-" Harry began, confused by Severus statement.

Hermione, however, realized what he was talking about the second she crossed eyes with Ronald and saw the resignation on his face. Suddenly she remembered the words on the paper she received. They wanted the contraceptives to works as fast as possible, and that meant…

"The potion!" She exclaimed, moving her hand to cover her mouth. She couldn't believe she hadn't made the association earlier.

"The Wolfsbane?" Harry asked. "Hermione, what's happening?"

"He won't be able to drink it anymore," She explained, allowing her hand to fall into her lap. "The Ministry won't allow anyone to consume any potion that could potentially work to prevent pregnancies. Few potions affect the fertility of a wizard, and Wolfsbane if one of those."

"No doubts a very careful decision made by the Dark Lord," Severus agreed. "Wolfsbane eases all of the symptoms of lycanthropy. It was intended to prevent the drinker from losing his mind during the transformation, but it has some collateral effects that weren't expected when it was created. One of the symptoms of the lycanthropy is enhanced fertility — which we assume exists to protect the existence of the curse. The potion, however, diminishes this effect to almost the opposite. Right now, Lupin is almost infertile, but that's bound to change just as soon as he stops taking the potion."

"That's..." At loss of words, Harry shook his head, not able to accept the fact that the man he considered a part of his family would be forced to give up the potion that made his condition tolerable.

"Barbarian, but effective," Hermione spoke, softly. "Without the potion, it's only a matter of time before the masses are claiming for action from the Ministry. An intervention will be imminent in a few months, if not sooner. It's the perfect opportunity for the Dark Lord to introduce himself as the savior of the wizarding world in more ways than one."

"Fuck," Ron cursed, probably annoyed he hadn't connected the dots much earlier.

Hermione didn't want to think about Lupin, not right now. She searched in her head a possible way to shift the attention to something else — something that did not include her future husbands.

"How come you're here and not with Dumbledore?" Hermione asked after a moment of silence, knowing the old man would want to question Severus as much as he could to plan his next moves.

"Albus is currently trying to calm down the entire Weasley clan," Severus answered, not sounding concerned at all for the fate of his fellow order members. "I took the opportunity to seek my lovely husband."

Hermione knew that was not the case. Severus was there to see her, but Hermione wasn't ready to talk about her matches yet — not before several shots of tequila and perhaps some synthetical drugs. So she deflected.

"Tell us about Zabini," She requested, moving her eyes to Ron in an attempt to mask her turning stomach. "What can we expect from him?"

There was a moment of silence where no one spoke, and Hermione feared she would be called out from her ridiculous attempt at deflection, but the tense moment slipped away as soon as the potion master began to speak. "Zabini is astute and cunning, don't expect anything from him. For all I know he could very well not follow through with this law and run away. He has never shown his cards, so to speak, so there's no way of knowing where his true loyalties belong, but he is friends with Draco so that may be a clue. I have the suspicion that he considers himself to be neutral, however."

"You think he is a threat to me?" Ronald asked, his eyes guarded as they spoke of his future husband.

"If he thinks that your marriage is a threat to his life, yes," The Head of Slytherin said. "He's a Slytherin; he'll do whatever he believes is best for himself. If you wish to ensure he's on your side, you'll have to convince him that's the best shot he's got at surviving this war and coming out on top."

"Some of these matches are going to cause trouble for us," Ronald pointed out the obvious. "Mine is currently not even a concern, to be quite honest. I can deal with Zabini. What about Rookwood or Yaxley? Ginny won't be able to do this."

"This is all a mess," Harry said, pinching the bridge of his nose. "What worries me the most is that it's still not clear what Tom wants with the choices he's made. They could all be much more complicated for us, but they aren't. Why?"

Even though the question wasn't directed towards Severus personally, he was the one who answered. Perhaps thinking he was more capable of understanding the Dark Lord's mind than most.

"I don't claim to know all the reasoning behind the choices the Dark Lord makes, but I think the angle here should be more about the children to come than the matches," He said. "Despite being engrossed in this war, the Dark Lord always thinks much ahead of the game. This is probably a way to manipulate people after the war."

"The pregnancies," Hermione exclaimed tiredly, trying not to look at Severus. "I don't want to have these babies. Perhaps we can just abstain if we cannot have any contraceptives at all. Or perhaps Muggle pills would do the trick."

"Don't pretend to be dumb, it doesn't suit you," Severus answered, finally looking like the angry, possessed man she had expected him to be facing the current situation. "Muggle pills will not work on witches, you know that. And the marriage will take care of the rest. You won't be able to resist — the first year of being bound is the worst in terms of unsettled magic between those involved. The need to be close to your partners will be undeniable. Even if you try and fight it, there's no way you'll be able to resist."

None of the boys said anything. Perhaps because they already knew how the wedding worked, or perhaps because they were aware that Severus was talking to her — and only to her. He was furious — much wilder and uncontrolled than he had ever been in a classroom. He had reasons to be, Hermione knew. She was furious too.

They needed to talk, even if Hermione rather they didn't. It would hurt too much. She was suffering enough.

However, the choice was taken out of her hands because Harry nudged her until he got out of bed before he grabbed Ron's arm and dragged him out of the room, closing the door on his way out. No one said a word.

Suddenly it was just the two of them, looking into each other's eyes and searching for a way to have the conversation they knew was coming.

"You won't return to the castle," He pointed out. It wasn't a question, he knew better.

"I don't think so, no," She said, getting up from the bed and walking until they were close enough to touch, should they wish to. "Harry needs to hunt the Horcruxes, you know that, and after this, I think it's time we stopped delaying it. Who knows what changes will be done to Hogwarts now that _He_ has control over the Ministry."

"He'll have to marry me," Severus lowered his voice, making so that the conversation sounded much more intimate than it already was. "The Dark Lord will know where he is."

"We'll run away as soon as you get married," She insisted. "You tell him that. We can't afford to have Harry in such danger."

"And you'll marry the dog and the wolf," He stated, the words sour in his mouth.

She looked at him, needing him to understand how she felt. The thought of marrying them was not a pleasant one, not at all, and it made all sorts of incoherent sentiments run through her body.

"Just look," She pleaded, gazing deep into his eyes.

He didn't hesitate any further, sliding into her mind with an ease that came from a lot of practice. It was almost effortlessly to push his mind forward and penetrate hers. While Hermione learned Occlumency and Legilimency they had done their fair share of invading each other's mind, and by now it wasn't difficult to imagine what was going on inside the other's thoughts.

She felt as he went through her feelings while reading the letter — the terror and disgust at the thought of not having a choice in the matter. She felt as he perused the conversation she had earlier with Black — the arrogance etched in his moves. She felt as he watched them talk to Harry — the whispers and the frowns. He saw it all, and she let him. She needed him to understand.

When he let her mind she almost felt sad to have her thoughts to herself once more. Severus presence was a comfort in her mostly chaotic life.

"This is unbearable," He said, lifting his hand to tug at the end of a strand of her hair that had gotten loose from the bun atop of her head.

Her heart clenched when he executed the motion she saw him doing a thousand times before. It killed her that perhaps that would be the last time he would ever tug at her hair again. After the marriages, everything would be different for them.

Hermione felt a burning sensation in her eyes right before the tears began to roll out. One after the other the tears marked their way down her cheeks while she watched him, trying to capture the moment in her head. That's how she wished to remember him in the future, still looking at her with the same tortured but affectionate eyes that she came to adore.

"Please don't cry," He begged, whispering so low she could bearly hear the words coming out of his lips. "Anything but the tears."

"Runaway with us," She begged in return, stepping closer than before and reaching for his face.

"I can't, you know that," He denied, his face distorted in a troubled grimace. "You know that if I could I would run with you to wherever place on earth, woman. But I'm cursed, this mark won't let me leave."

She didn't answer; she didn't have to. She tugged his head down and met his lips halfway, kissing him like she was about to die. It lacked the finesse she came to expect from him, but it didn't matter — she wasn't looking for finesse. She wanted to forget the world existed even if only for a few more minutes and Severus was only too happy to oblige to her wishes.

He gripped her waist much too strongly, lifting her against the wall and trapping her there with his body. She, in return, grabbed his hair and bit his lips, trying to draw blood in the same way he was trying to draw moans. Hermione knew these moves, knew his body. It was a familiar place and a familiar comfort. When he ground against her core she hissed and cursed, banging her head lightly against the wall.

Hermione needed this. Hermione needed him.

She knew she would have to release him sometime — probably sooner rather than later — but for the moment she chose to be selfish and hang on to him tighter still. She would deal with all the rest later.

* * *

 **AN2: Sooo... don't leave me hanging, okay?**


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